


Hidden Talents

by prouvaireafterdark



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Established Relationship, Fluff, Hair Braiding, Implied Sexual Content, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-28
Updated: 2017-01-28
Packaged: 2018-09-20 11:58:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,334
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9490067
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/prouvaireafterdark/pseuds/prouvaireafterdark
Summary: Exactly what it says on the tin. Inspired by ohflint'spost





	

**Author's Note:**

> I could be persuaded to add a second chapter with smut, but for now here's Flint french braiding Silver's hair

As they stood before the wheel of the _Walrus_ , Silver discussed their course with Flint and tried to look dignified as the wind whipped his hair about. Eventually, the nuisance became too much for him and he could ignore it no longer.

“ _Christ_ ,” Silver shouted, shaking his head in an effort flick the offending curls from his eyes.

“Something the matter?” Flint asked, glancing in Silver’s direction. A scowl wrinkled his brow.

“Having long hair is so-“ a stiff breeze blew his hair across his face again, and Silver fought to both keep a hold on the rope above his head and remove the hair from his eyes, “-frustrating.”

Flint tried to hide his smile, but, from the way Silver glared at him, Flint suspected he had seen it regardless. 

Life on the open ocean meant that barbers were in short supply, and Silver had voiced to him on more than one occasion that he, not without reason, trusted no member of the crew to cut his hair. Though, Flint suspected that this decision to let his hair grow out was a calculated one.

Silver had effectively ingratiated himself into the crew, and looking the part was very much a means toward that end. Between the various rings and necklaces he’d picked up along their travels, and the beard he now sported, Flint thought Silver was looking more the part of a proper pirate every day. 

His transformation was not without its drawbacks, however. Silver’s relationship with his hair complicated as it continued to grow. Flint knew from personal experience that long hair took work, and the curly texture of Silver’s seemed to only worsen his troubles. He would more often than not wake up in Flint’s bunk with his hair in a tangled mess and would have to spend a considerable amount of time to make himself presentable again. Flint looked on at his misfortune with a small dose of sympathy, but, for very selfish reasons, never suggested he cut it. 

Then, one night, when they were well in their cups in Flint’s cabin, Silver broached the subject.

“Sometimes I think you had the right idea,” Silver said, slouched in his chair with his good leg propped on Flint’s desk. Flint had killed men for less, but since the start of their romantic relationship, Flint had been letting Silver get away with a great deal. 

“That does tend to happen on occasion,” said Flint, taking another sip of rum from the bottle. “Though, I don’t know of what specifically you speak.”

“You cut your hair,” said Silver, gesturing toward Flint. “I used to think you’d made a tragic mistake, but now I’m beginning to understand.” Silver reached his hand out and Flint slid the bottle across the desk toward him. "I’ve been thinking of cutting my own, in fact,“ he said, and then took a swig from the bottle.

“ _No_.” The ferocity of his reply surprised even Flint himself. “Absolutely fucking _not_.” Silver looked at him, eyebrows raised in quiet astonishment.

“I’m sorry?” Silver asked, and Flint shifted uncomfortably in his seat.

“I just mean,” Flint started. “There are other ways. To deal with it, I mean. You can plait your hair, for example.”

“I don’t know how,” said Silver.

“I could teach you,” offered Flint, and Silver laughed.

“You, Captain James Flint, the most fearsome pirate on the seven seas, know how to _braid hair?_ ” Flint was sure if Silver could raise his eyebrows anymore, they would recede into his hairline entirely.

“Don’t sound so surprised,” Flint shifted again. “My hair used to be longer than yours, believe it or not.” 

_“Really?”_ asked Silver, and he stared at Flint intently. “I can’t picture it."

“Yes, it was,” said Flint. “Before-“ he stopped himself, but a knowing expression passed over Silver’s face nonetheless. Since that night burying the treasure, Flint had mentioned Thomas only once, and he was not keen to discuss him any further. He was grateful when Silver redirected the conversation.

“So you can really braid hair?” asked Silver.

"Come, I’ll show you,” said Flint, and he found himself standing and walking toward the bed. 

Silver studied him a moment, and Flint felt strangely self-conscious. “Alright,” Silver said, and he rose to stand. “Could you-“ Silver started, but Flint was already on his way over to him. It had been a rough day at sea and Flint suspected Silver’s leg had suffered for it, so he was by his side in an instant, offering his arm for support. He knew how hard it was for Silver to ask for help, and, as they crossed the room, Flint reflected on how far they’d truly come since that night they met at the wrecks for this moment to be possible.

Silver lowered himself onto the bed, his right leg folded at the knee on its surface and left leg hanging off the edge. Flint sat behind him and got to work. 

To tell the truth, Flint had wanted to do this for a very long time, and now that he _could_ , he decided he would take his time. He gently ran his finger’s through Silver’s hair. It was the softest thing Flint could remember ever feeling. Silver had started using coconut oil in his hair since their trip to the Maroon Island, and the difference it made was astonishing. 

Silver hummed pleasantly as Flint lightly massaged his scalp. Flint drew all of his hair together and bared the nape of Silver’s neck. He pressed a soft kiss against his skin, and felt Silver’s sigh more than he heard it. He leaned back, flush against Flint’s chest, and Flint rested his chin on Silver’s shoulder, his hands leaving the man’s hair and circling around his waist. The weight and warmth of him against his chest was something Flint could never get enough of. 

“Is all this part of the braiding process, or are you trying to seduce me?” Silver asked, voice slightly breathy. 

“A little of both,” came Flint’s reply. “Why, is it working?” Flint kissed the juncture between Silver’s neck and shoulder, and felt him shiver. “I’ll take that as a yes.” 

“Come _on_ ,” Silver laughed. “I want to see this hidden talent of yours. You can have your way with me afterward.”

“As you wish,” said Flint, and then he leaned back to return to the task at hand.

Flint took his time separating each piece, crossing them over each other, and then repeating the action with more hair taken from the bottom. He treated the act with a surprising amount of reverence, especially for a man so prone to violence. He narrated what he was doing as he went, so Silver could hopefully recreate it at will. When he was done, Flint tied the braid off with a cord and admired his handiwork. Silver’s curls threatened to escape in some places, but, overall, he was satisfied with the outcome. 

“Are you done?” asked Silver, peering over his shoulder. Flint hummed an affirmative. Silver reached his hand back and felt the plait, pulling it over his shoulder so he could take a look. “This is incredible,” he said, and Flint smiled, an unexpected swell of pride filling his chest at the praise.

“Told you I could do it,” he said, pulling Silver back against his chest. “Now, I believe I remember you saying something about letting me have my way with you,” said Flint, the timbre of his voice deeper than usual. One of Flint’s hands migrated south from Silver’s waist to his thigh. "Does the offer still stand?"

Silver twisted in Flint’s grasp until they were facing each other, his hand coming to Flint’s jaw. He moved in as if to kiss him, but stopped short of making physical contact. He waited until Flint’s eyes dragged their way up to his from his mouth.

“I am nothing if not a man of my word,” he deadpanned, and Flint huffed a laugh against his lips before he closed the distance between them. 


End file.
